


if the world was ending, you'd come over, right?

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Fame, Hospitals, Mental Health Issues, Phone Calls & Telephones, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: George isn't doing great.He didn't tell anyone.! Heed the tags !
Relationships: George Harrison & Ringo Starr
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings:  
> planned suicide, self harm (cutting), blood
> 
> Please, please don't read this if you're sensitive to any of the topics in the tags

Ringo rolled over in his bed as soon as the phone rang to check the time. Maureen, laying next to him, draped her hand over his waist.

“Richie? Who’s calling?” He shrugged, turning back around to get some more sleep. Whoever it was could wait until morning. After a few more rings, it finally stopped, and he was able to curl back up in the warmth under his covers, shutting his eyes.

And then then the ringing came again. “Should I answer it? It must be important, right?”

“Just see what they want and come back. You’re warm.” He chuckled sleepily and dragged himself over to the phone, picking it up and immediately hearing John’s worried breathing. “John? Is that you?”

“Richie, you’ve got to check on George. I can't get over there!” he shouted into the speaker, voice rushed. The adrenaline straightened the drummer’s back and sped up his heart.

“What do you mean? Is he okay?”

“He was phoning me from his bathroom, and he said he was going to kill himself. Please believe me. I couldn’t get a hold of Paul. He must be asleep, but you’ve got to go check on him!” 

“Okay,” Ringo managed to spit out. “Okay. I’ll call you back when I can. Thank you!” He hung up the phone and ran past the bedroom, slipping on a pair of trainers. Maureen tried to follow him out of the house, but he was too fast.

His hands were shaking so badly, eyes blurring the lights on the road. It was a good thing there were hardly any other people on the road, or he probably would’ve hit one of them. It only took a few minutes to get to George’s place, but it seemed like an eternity, his mind travelling to places he didn’t want it to go. What was he going to see when he walked in?

He got out of his car, not bothering with even closing the driver’s door and ran right to the window around back, which he knew how to open without a key or anything. He didn’t have time to knock on the front door.

After crawling into the kitchen, he ran to the downstairs bathroom: empty. He ran upstairs, and as he did, dread filled his stomach. What if George had already done something irreversible? What if it was too late? What if--?

He cracked open the door, and George was sitting in the bathtub, one of his wrists emitting a steady stream of blood into the water soaking his clothes. He held a knife in his hand, seeming prepared to cut the other one, but before he could, Ringo panicked and smacked it out of his hands.

“Oh, god. Oh, my god. George! Christ!” Grabbing a hanging shower towel, he dove to the ground and pulled George’s left arm out of the water, wrapping it tightly. A scream sounded, and for the first time, he looked at George’s face, pale, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. The water had been stained red, seeping deep into the white button down he donned. 

He whispered something, but his voice was too soft to be heard, so Ringo pulled him into his chest, not caring how gross or bloodied he got. 

“Shh, George. Shh, shh.” He couldn’t say much else, only hushing the poor man. They stayed like this for a bit before Ringo pulled away just to make sure his friend was still alive and checking the yellow towel, now red. “Fuck. I need to call 999.” He reached for the phone on the bathroom wall, but George put his right hand up to stop him, shaking his head. “George! You need--!”

“I don’t want to be saved, Ringo!” The words broke him. They broke both of them, and Ringo traced a finger down George’s face. “What makes you so sure that I’m happy to see you?”

“I’m calling, George. You need help or you’ll bleed out!” Reaching down into the warm bath to retrieve the knife, he cringed. George’s attempt felt sticky on his arm, and he wasn’t sure he could shake it from his mind. But after having the knife away from his friend, he picked up the phone and dialled the number. As he spoke to them, George hung his head down low and sobbed.

Ringo was still holding onto his left wrist on the edge of the tub, but when he tried to yank it back, Ringo held on tighter. He hung up the phone.

“They’re going to be here soon. I need to call John. He’s worried about you!” 

“I’m sorry,” George mumbled. “I didn’t mean to worry any of you.”

Ringo fought the urge to cry. How could George expect to do something like this and not want to worry them? He dialled John’s number, and it was picked up immediately.

“Rich? Please tell me he’s okay.”

“I think so. Ambulance is going to be here soon.” He heard John start to cry, and he suddenly couldn’t resist any more, squealing when he tried to hide it.

“I should have called you earlier. I’m so sorry!” Ringo took a few shaky breaths, not knowing how to respond. “Can I talk with him?”

Holding the phone up to George, the younger man just shouted, “Fuck you!” into the phone and turned the other way, angry.

“He’s going to hate me forever because of this, Richie. I’ve ruined our friendship! I’ve ruined the band!” Still, Ringo couldn’t say anything, and the line went dead. He hugged George by the shoulder again, and this time, George didn’t struggle, finally accepting the fact that Ringo wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.

“George, I could’ve lost you! I love you too much for that!” There was no reply. “Why would you even think that was a good idea?!” Once again, George said nothing. “Where’s Pattie?”

“I bought her and Cynthia plane tickets to go to Greece this weekend. Didn’t want her to have to deal with this.”

“George,” he mewled. “God, love, you should have just told somebody you felt like this.”

“I did! But even then, it doesn’t change anything!” His voice was hoarse, but he couldn’t just not respond.

“Who did you tell?” Ringo whispered to him, stroking his thumb over the back of George’s hand. George sighed, shaking his head. “Love, please.”

“John.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean why didn’t you tell anybody before you had gotten to this point? You waited until--”

“You think I didn’t tell him before I was already cutting myself up in a bath? I told him last week!” They both jumped when they heard a pounding below them. Ringo refused to move from George’s side, and the pounding continued. “They’re going to knock the door down, Richie!”

“Let them. I’m not leaving you.” They heard shouts, but they were too far away to understand what they were saying. And then, there was an even louder bang, and George cursed under his breath. 

“You could’ve just gone to get them! Now, they’re ruined my door!”

“Your door’s going to be fine, George.” He hugged him again and they waited until the bathroom door opened and paramedics stepped inside. Ringo could see a gurney in the hallway, and his insides did a flip.

“We’ll take it from here, sir,” one of the paramedics said, helping Ringo to his feet as somebody leaned over and whispered into his ear. The drummer heard what he said.

“There are cameras everywhere outside. We can’t wheel him out like this.” As four men worked to pull George up out of the tub, Ringo started to shake in fear. Of course there were cameras outside. When were there not?

He was suddenly escorted out of the bathroom and the gurney was pushed inside. “Can we hide him from the cameras?” he asked a man standing next to him.

“We’ll do our best.” It was obvious that they were all more shocked than anything to find themselves at the house of George Harrison, and even more that it was in this situation. Ringo just hoped the public wouldn’t know, but there wasn’t a way to hide it.

The gurney rolled out of the toilet, his left wrist already starting to be properly bandaged.

“Please don’t let them see me!” George cried, thrashing around. “Please!”

A few of the paramedics talked amongst themselves. “Mr. Harrison, the best we can do is cover you up, but we typically wouldn’t do that with living people.”

“We typically wouldn’t have that kind of crowd,” another one reminded him, and George nodded. “Alright. Get a sheet!” he shouted down the hallway, and somebody walked up with one within seconds. 

As they started to cover him, Ringo sobbed. He knew that George wasn’t gone, but the way they treated him like that scared him to no end. He was starting to be led away from the toilet when he saw a note on the counter and grabbed it before he was led downstairs and towards the ambulance.

Outside, there were bright flashes of light, curious as to what had happened to George, who looked like nothing more than a dead body. The sirens were off, which Ringo assumed was because of how stressed they made them all in this. George was being hooked up to an IV, the sheet being pulled off him to reveal a much paler face than Ringo remembered from a moment ago.

He glanced over at Ringo, sitting in a chair as close to the edge of the ambulance as he could get. “I hope you’re happy,” he muttered sourly, glancing the other way. Ringo’s heart broke into a million pieces at that moment, shattering across his chest. He had only wanted to help.


	2. Chapter 2

While waiting in the hospital, Ringo called John, telling him that they were at the hospital and that George was doing good, at least physically. Then, he called Paul, this time, he picked up, and groaned into the phone. Without wanting to worry him, he’d said, “George is in the hospital. It was sudden, but he’s doing better now, and I think you should come.” He’d said the same thing to Brian, not knowing how much George would want him to share right away. Paul had agreed to pick up John on his way, and he went on to Maureen.

“H-hello?” she asked carefully, fear still rattling her from when Ringo had unexpectedly run out of the house a while prior.

“Hey, Mo. It’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t phone you earlier or tell you what was going on. George got hurt, and we’re at the hospital now.”

“Oh, my god! Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’ll explain when you get here. He’s okay, though.”

She agreed and left the house right away. Now, it was time to make the most difficult call. Pattie deserved to know what was going on, being so far away, she would only worry more if she didn’t. 

“Hey, Pattie,” he said as soon as she answered.

“Rich? Hey! Is everything alright?”

“I wish I could say it was, but I think you should come home soon. It’s George.” Before she could jump to conclusions, he continued talking. “He’s okay right now, but he t-tried to…” Trailing off, he couldn’t stop himself from welling up again. “Pattie, he tried to kill himself.” For the first time, he was admitting it out loud.

“Oh, my god! Okay. Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. God, I’m sorry. I should’ve been there with him.”

“It’s alright. I’ll let him know you’re on your way back, okay?”

“That’d be lovely.” By the time he was done with that call, he fell back into one of the small plastic chairs behind him and began to cry again. Just in time for George’s doctor to step into the waiting room and close the door.

“Hello, Mr. Starkey. Are you the only one here about George Harrison?” He nodded, too shaken to tell him that more people were coming. “Well, he’s doing better. The cut wasn’t as deep as we thought it was. It didn’t hit any main arteries, but he did lose a lot of blood. He’s had a transfusion, and all immediate danger has been eliminated.”

Ringo smiled. “Does that mean he’ll be able to leave soon?”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.” The hope in Ringo’s heart disappeared. “Because we know that this was a suicide attempt, and he’s not a minor with a guardian to check him out, we’re going to have to evaluate him and we’ll go from there. At the least, he’ll be here for three days.”

“Oh…” As much as he hated it, he knew it was for the best. George was in no state to be on his own right now, and he’d be much safer at the hospital. 

“He’s awake now, so you can come see him if you’d like.” Ringo nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take you back there. Just to warn you, though, he hasn’t been in the best shape mentally, and he’s still a bit shocked about everything.”

“Of course.” Mentally, he set his bar low. George was probably in a crummy mood about being caught, right? That would make sense. He followed the doctor back to George’s room to find him sitting on the bed crying.

“I’ll leave you for a bit.” The doctor walked away, and George turned away from Ringo, starting to cry more.

“It’s okay,” Ringo assured. “Nobody’s mad at you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Like hell it wasn’t! Richie, when are you going to understand that I did it on purpose?! You think that I just slipped?!” Ringo looked down at the floor, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that George wanted it. “I mean, you think you’re a hero? You took away something I really wanted, Rich! Please just get that through your head!”

“It’s not what you really want, George. Trust me. You’re going through a really rough point right now, but it’ll get better!”

“It won’t!” He huffed. “Can you just leave? I don’t want to talk about this anymore!”

He stood up, walking over to the door. “Geo, you know that you’re going to be in here for days, don’t you?”

“Leave.” After the final demand, he nodded and left the room, letting the doctor lead him back to the waiting room, where John and Paul were now sitting. They jumped up when they saw him.

“Oh, god! Richie!” John shouted, hugging him. “I can’t thank you enough! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been awake!” But when Ringo hardly hugged back, he noticed how tense he looked. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course it’s not. What kind of stupid question is that?” He pushed past them to sit down by himself. “He’s really mad at me. I feel bad.”

“For what?” Paul muttered. “Didn’t you do the right thing? John said he was trying to--”

“Yeah, but he didn’t want it.” The words tumbled from his mouth, bittersweet as they came and created a tense atmosphere in the room. Paul sighed and sat down, keeping all of his emotions behind his eyes.

“Do you think we should talk to him?” John asked, already feeling the answer in the way another tear rolled down Ringo’s face. Still, the drummer shook his head.

“I think we need to leave him for a bit.” Sitting down next to Paul, with John on the other side, he let himself start to cry louder. “John? He said he told you…”

“Richie, I had no idea he was going to--”

“So he did tell you?”

“He didn’t just come up to me and tell me he was going to kill himself, Paul! I mean, he was laughing! How was I supposed to know he was serious??”

“You don’t just hear something like that and laugh it off, John! He almost--!” Before he could say it, Paul shoved them apart.

“That’s enough!” His emotion was starting to seep out of him, and they could both tell. “This situation is bad enough, and you’re only making it worse!”

After silence had enveloped them again, John explained. “He said the other day he was going to die this weekend. At first, it sent chills through me, Rich! But then he started laughing, and I laughed, too! I thought he was fucking kidding!”

“I’m sorry…” Brian walked in, and Ringo had to hide his crying face to save himself from more embarrassment. 

“What’s going on? Is somebody going to tell me what happened?” He sat down across the room from the three of them curled up together and studied them.

“Who’s gonna tell him?” John whispered, and Brian’s eyebrows raised.

“W-what does that mean?? Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” Ringo spat. “Not doing great, though. In a pissy mood.” Brian stared at Ringo, confused. “He tried to fucking kill himself, Eppy! Sent Pattie away thinking nobody else could reach him.” Then he sobbed, and looked at the floor again.

“Oh…” Nobody said anything after that, and eventually, they had all fallen asleep once again.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, they were in a van on their way to a press conference about their upcoming tour when they were handed the morning paper, a picture plastered across the front of George being wheeled out of his house in the middle of the night, Ringo following after in tears, covered in blood.

‘George Harrison Dead?’ read the headline, and John cursed under his breath. Ringo put his head in his hands and started to cry. 

“This conference is a bad idea,” Paul said, staring out the window as they approached the crowd of cameras. “They’re only going to ask about him.”

“If you don’t tell them he’s not dead, they’re only going to push this further.”

“And you don’t think it’ll be at all suspicious when we show up without him?” Ringo laughed. “They’re gonna have a field day with that, won’t they?”

“Yeah, they will.”

“It’s only a half hour,” Brian promised them. “Just get through it, and we can discuss what exactly we’re going to do here.”

They pulled up next to the crowd, and the three of them hurried inside, not making any comments to any of the people shouting questions at them. It was all a blur until they were seated, ready for the load of questions they were about to receive. 

The first question, of course, was, “Where is George?”

“He couldn’t make it,” John said snarkily. “Bit of traffic. Maybe he’ll be here later.” Ringo didn’t know how he kept up his stupid act even after all that had happened. All that still could.

There were some more shouts at them before somebody got them to calm down and ask one at a time. “Ringo!” He glanced up, fear in his eyes. “You were with George last night! Has he died?”

He had to look down at the table to process what was being said. What if he hadn’t gotten there in time? What if George really had died and it was his fault because he couldn’t save him? A million things ran through his mind, and he put his hand up to his mouth to bite on to stop from crying.

“Rich?” he heard from beside him. Paul. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go…” He stood up and ran out of the room, causing an uproar. Voices shouted about George really being dead, and Paul glanced over at John.

“He’s not dead!” Paul shouted into his mic. “He’s still alive, don’t worry.” Then, they hounded Paul with questions, and he felt a panic bubble in his chest. Maybe he should go check on Ringo to make sure he was alright, but these people would go even more crazy if he left.

“What happened last night!”

“Why was he covered!”

“Is he still in the hospital if he’s alive! Is he going to be okay?!”

John sighed into the microphone, mumbling, “You fucking people. No wonder he wanted to kill himself…” He should’ve been more careful, but it only took a minute for him to realise what he’d said, and Paul looked over at him with wide eyes. “Fuck.”

“Did George commit suicide???!!” somebody yelled, and Paul felt sick. He ran out of the room, as well, running into Ringo as he ran out of the toilet.

“I’m so sorry I left. I’ve been sick,” he whispered. “I just kept thinking awful things about him.”

“John’s told them.” Ringo looked at him blankly, refusing to understand what he’d said. “It was an accident, but they heard it. I’m so sorry, Ringo. They know.” Then, for the first time ever, Ringo saw Paul’s eyes start to redden. Growing up, crying was never something they ever did. It wasn’t the proper way to deal with things. But here, Paul’s nostrils were flaring as a single tear dripped down his nose when he looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Without even processing the few cameras around, he hugged Paul, pulling him close as they cried together. And the flashes around them blurred into another dimension. It was the least of their worries.

-

George sat on his hospital bed in complete tears, knees hugged up to his chest. His parents were on their way, along with Pattie and Cynthia. And the other three Beatles, Brian, Maureen, and Jane were there, too. Right now, though, only Paul, Ringo, and John were in his room, sitting in chairs next to the bed as he cried.

“They think I’m dead?? I’ve only made things worse for myself.” Ringo wanted to sit on the bed with him, wrap an arm around him, but even if he wanted it, he was trying to keep his mind off of the bandaged arm, and being so close to it wouldn’t help. “And they know…”

“I’m so sorry, George. I should have just shut my mouth, but--”

“They would’ve figured it out anyroad. You can’t escape them.” He glanced down at his arm. “I wish I’d never joined your band. I want a normal life, y’know?” 

As soon as he’d said it, Ringo felt something in his chest crack. It sent a strange feeling throughout him. Then, he pulled something out of his suit pocket, and cleared his throat. “Geo, I found this last night… I haven’t read it yet, but I picked it up, because I didn’t want anybody else finding it.” George’s spirits fell. “I wasn’t planning on reading it if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t know if I could.” He handed it over to the guitarist, but he refused it.

“You can read it if you want,” he whispered. “It’s something I probably should have told somebody long before now.”

Ringo knitted his eyebrows together, and John and Paul went quiet, straightening up. George nodded at him, so he unfolded the paper, reading over it for a minute.

Then he dropped it to the floor and ran up to George, hugging him. He slid onto the bed, letting one of his arms drift down to grab George’s wrist. “I know, love. Look at me, yeah?” George made eye contact with him. “I think we should talk to Eppy about this, okay?” There was no response. “Hey, Geo, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna get through this.”

“You sure?”

“I would never lie to you, George.” Rubbing his thumb up and down slowly on the bandage, he sighed. This was going to be a long ride.


End file.
